


Anchor

by lovedsammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s15e05 Proverbs 17:3, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 02:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21438886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedsammy/pseuds/lovedsammy
Summary: Coda to 15.05. Based on the speculation about there being two pillows on Sam’s bed and Sam and Cas having shared the bed in the past, with Cas comforting Sam through his nightmares. With Castiel away from the bunker, Sam’s blood-forged nightmares bring him to his knees. He needs the angel with him now more than ever, and he’s determined to get him to come back home. Hurt/comfort/angst. Mentions of trauma, Becky, Chuck/God.
Relationships: Castiel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 156





	Anchor

_ Sammy, please. _

_ Please. _

A loud, resounding crack, and Sam’s eyes snap open. Instantly, he’s folded over the side of the bed, his head swimming, breaths coming in harsh, wet pants. His neck and back are drenched in a cold sweat that clings to him much in the way that the horrific images remain behind his eyes. 

The first nightmare again: facing off with Dean, his brother pleading with him to stop, Sam’s body absolutely thrumming from the power coursing through his veins, feeling the soar of it, snapping Dean’s neck…. 

And the worst of all --- tasting the metallic tang of the demon blood on his tongue like it was meant to be there.

Even awake.

Sam heaves, and nothing but bile comes up, but he still feels endlessly nauseous. It’s becoming a part of the territory lately. He’s still half-asleep and a little out of it - the cold medicine he took last night worked a little too well - and he finds himself in the middle of calling out Cas’s name. It’s a thing of habit. He rolls over, almost expecting to find the angel’s concerned face staring back at him. But Castiel isn’t here. The empty space next to Sam is proof of that. Castiel left, and Sam… well, he was a grown man. He shouldn’t need, or depend on someone else to keep him steady when he felt like he was falling. He needs to be his own crutch, because this…. this is his problem, and not one he should be including anyone else in. Most of all, Cas, his friend, who was suffering himself over the loss of the boy that they both viewed as a son. 

Which was probably why he wasn’t here now. 

It was hard for Sam too, so used to the sound of Jack’s laughter echoing off the bunker walls, and now there was only hollow silence. For Cas, who had loved Jack so fiercely and unconditionally… the anguish must be indescribable. 

And yet, Sam still aches for Cas’s presence. The angel had involved himself in Sam’s troubled cycles of sleep, and had for quite some time, ever since he had started to take up residence in the younger Winchester’s room. Sometimes, Sam would get so tired that he’d curl up on his bed with Cas still beside him as they made their way through another TV show or docuseries, and he’d be out in seconds. He’d come to some time later, thrashing, trembling, and Cas would be there to console him, run his fingers through Sam’s hair, and calm him down. Having Cas in his room had become a safeguard for Sam. He hadn’t realized how much he’d depended on Cas to keep the nightmares at bay until he wasn’t there. 

Castiel was more aware than Dean even at this point of the severity of Sam’s dreams. Sam would tell Cas things, usually without meaning to, that he’d never breathe a word of to Dean. It wasn’t because he distrusted his brother - it was more just that Cas was there and had an understanding of the inner workings of Sam’s mind in ways that no one else really did. 

A lot of the time that Sam and Cas had actually spent rooming together came as a result of the loss of Dean to Michael. In those months spent searching for his brother, Sam had started to really let himself go, both physically and mentally. He was exhausted, barely ate, and hardly ever slept. He was always out and about, following some lead or another, or helping another new hunter on a case. Or setting up more services for the Hunter Network. Or something else altogether. So Cas had become Sam’s rock, along with becoming Jack’s. 

The first few times that Sam had allowed Cas into his room again, it was mostly just out of loneliness. He’d needed someone beside him, and Cas was good company. They enjoyed watching Netflix together, and Sam knew that his room had ironically become something of a sanctuary for the angel, too, for whatever reason. But the many, many times after that…. it became something more. 

Sam genuinely enjoyed the feeling of waking up to see Castiel beside him every morning. The residents of the bunker all knew what was happening, but fortunately, no one said anything about it. Mary had made sure of that. She seemed to be under the same impression as the rest of the hunters, though, because once when Sam came out of his room with bedhead and Castiel in tow looking just as rustled, her eyebrows had shot up to her hairline. While Cas had gone to check on Jack, she’d looked at Sam pointedly. 

“So…. how long has this been going on? You and Castiel?”

“M-Mom,” He’d stuttered, flushed, choking around a mouth full of toast. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, I swear. We're just… he helps. I can’t - I don’t really sleep much at night, and he, uh… we watch things, and it helps me. Really, we’re just hanging out.” 

Seeing her son’s red face, Mary just laughs, and leans over to kiss his cheek. “Oh, Sam. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m not implying anything, okay? I’m just happy for you. I don’t care what’s going on between the two of you. If he helps you, he helps. He’s an angel, and your friend. I don’t trust anyone else besides Dean with you. Even if it does happen to become something else, you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Sam had smiled back at her, nodded, and they’d left it at that. And while it was true that he’d been harboring some unspoken -- likely unrequited -- feelings about Cas for the longest time now, he’d never acted on them. And if Cas felt the same way, well, he hadn’t either.

Confident now that he was done expelling the contents of his stomach lining, Sam shakily exhales, sweeping his fringe back from his face and tries to relax his frantic heart. Once he’s sure he can stand, he gets a glass of water from his sink to wash out the taste of acid and blood in his mouth, and more importantly, clean up the mess before Dean comes in at some point and starts asking questions. 

The sound of his phone vibrating startles him out of the haze. It’s a new text, and he’s shocked to see that it’s from Cas.

_ Deep breaths, Sam. _ It says. R _ emember to even them. Do them in sets. I’m sorry that I’m not there to help you right now. _

Sam just stares at the message, a little stunned. He’s spent days trying to get in touch with Cas, only for him to ignore his messages completely. 176 total messages sent, over 20 voice mails. 

_ Hey, Cas, just checking in.  _

_ How are you doing? Everything ok? _

_ Cas, call me. We need to talk.  _

_ Didn’t realize you were taking off.  _

_ Service sucks in the bunker, want to make sure you’re getting these? _

_ Call me when you can. _

_ Want to make sure you’re ok?  _

_ Cas, check in when you can.  _

_ Cas, please. _

_ Cas. _

_ Cas, please answer me, man. I’m worried. Radio silence isn’t like you. _

_ All right, it’s been two days. I’m really worried. _

_ About you. _

_ I don’t know why you’re not replying.  _

_ Is it because you can’t? Or won’t? _

_ Five days...  _

_ Did I do something?  _

_ Tomorrow’s a week. _

_ I think I know now, and I’m sorry. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I’m so sorry, Cas.  _

_ I’m sorry about Jack. I’m sorry I fucked up...  _

_ I’m sorry that what I did, and what we lost, caused you to leave. _

His fingers fumble with the phone.  _ How did you know? _ He simply texts back, because, well, he’d thought that Casiel’s powers were failing. Could the angel still sense him when he was in distress without being anywhere near him? 

_ You wake at the same time every night without fail, _ Cas replies a moment later. _ The nightmares have always been frequent but they seem to have become more systematic lately. I can usually tell when you’re about to have one depending on the time of night it is and how far into REM sleep you are. _

Again, Sam is thrown for a loop, and more than touched. Cas had really attuned himself to Sam’s sleep patterns, so he’d best know how to help him. He’s about to reply back when the phone rings. He’s relieved, and honestly, a little bit bitter. He’d spent all the time waiting to hear from Cas, only for him to call him now. He didn’t understand why, but he was going to find out. 

The wave of calm that washes over him once he hears the angel’s voice, however, is immediate and blissful and saps the confrontational energy right out of him. 

“Sam, are you all right?” Castiel’s voice is a low, gentle vice that holds Sam still, and steers him back to reality. The hunter doesn’t really register that he’d been palming his scarred hand until his fingers uncurl from it. 

He puffs out a haggard breath, attempting to quell a new wave of dizziness. “I don’t know,” he slurs. “Not really. No. Since I shot God, I’ve been having these dreams, or premonitions or whatever. They keep getting more and more vivid. And honestly, they’re really starting to scare the hell out of me.” He lowers his head so that they’re between his knees, and it helps a little in lessening the constriction of his chest and the spinning of the room. “Cas… we ran into  _ Lilith _ , of all people. Apparently, Chuck brought her back, to take the gun from us. And she did. And ... and she said that Chuck isn’t done with us. He’s writing the ending that he wants. He hasn’t left. I was so damn stupid to think he had, that he was gone….” 

The sound of silence on the other end of the phone makes him shudder, and he wraps an arm around himself. He’s waiting, wanting, for Cas to say something. Anything. Tell him he’s imagining things, that he’s crazy, that he’s stressed and tired and — 

“I came to the same conclusion,” Cas says grimly. “Only I didn’t run into Lilith. I wish I could appease your fears, Sam. But I think you’re right. Chuck isn’t gone. And I think I have proof beyond just Lilith’s word.” 

Sam’s blood turns to ice. “What?” He asks. “How?”

“I wasn’t going to mention it, but… do you… remember Becky Rosen?” 

Sam sours again and suppresses another shudder. Yet another crappy memory. “Y-yeah. What about her?” 

“She’s missing. Along with her husband and children. It’s all over the news here.” 

Sam blinks, raising his brows. “Wait - you’re kidding…. Becky got married? And had kids? Okay, uh…. wow. But how do… how do you know it’s Chuck, Cas?” 

“Because I’ve been reading everything about the case, and from what neighbors have said, Becky, her husband, and children, all went into their house, and never came back out. Their car is still here. There’s no sign that they left on foot. There’s no damages to the home that would suggest an intruder. It’s like they blipped out of existence. Or someone snapped them out. Like what the Mad Titan Thanos did to the Avengers in Infinity War.” 

Sam waves a dismissive hand that Cas can’t see. “Yeah, I know the Marvel reference - Cas…” He swallows down as much water as he can before he continues. “I don’t…. Why would Chuck go after Becky, of all people? She’s his ex, didn’t they have feelings for one another at one time?” 

“Becky got played just like the rest of us have,” Cas reminds him. “It may not be him, but I just thought… I can’t shake this feeling that he’s involved somehow. I’m going to keep looking into it, I’ll text you when --” 

Sam cuts him off. “Wait, Cas… why… why don’t you come back… to the bunker?” He pleads. “Please. We could use you here. Or if you don’t want to meet here, I could… I could come meet you. I need some air right now, and I could…. Cas, I  _ really _ need to see you. You’ve been ignoring all of my messages and you won’t even tell me why. Now out of the blue you message me, and you expect me not to ask what’s going on? Talk to me. Please.” 

It makes him feel so incredibly vulnerable, admitting to Cas how much he views him as an anchor, and how much he needs him. 

“The exit off 36,” Cas says after a long moment. “182. Just outside Bellaire. I’ll meet you there. I’m not too far out.” 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, and some of the tightness in his chest finally relieves. 

——

He’s still trembling when he sees the headlights of Cas’s car approaching, and had been on the entire drive here. He guesses that the after effects of the visions are getting harder and harder to shake off. They’re so reminiscent of his early days with them, back as a twenty-three year old boy. The only difference now is that he was older, wiser, and not quite as innocent. 

When Cas steps out of the car and nears him, the angel’s expression is one of concern. “Oh, Sam,” He chokes, sorrow etching on the lines of his face, “You look terrible.” He reaches up to caress Sam’s cheek, and Sam’s eyes flutter closed. It’s such a tender touch that he wants to melt into it. He forces his eyes open again. 

Cas is frowning at him as he looks him over, at the dark circles under the hunter’s eyes, the paleness of his skin. 

“I haven’t really been sleeping,” Sam explains in response. “Because when I do, the dreams - the visions that I’m having… it takes me a long time to calm down after. I just know that he’s… he’s got something horrible planned for us. He’s… Cas, I think he’s showing me things. Not intentionally, but…”

“What are you seeing?” 

Sam takes a deep breath, steeling himself. Cas places an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“Sam. It’s all right. You can tell me.” 

“Me,” Sam answers. “I’m seeing me, and Dean. In one of them, we’re in the bunker, and I kill him. I snap his neck, and I’m happy about it. I’m evil. I’m hooked on the demon blood again, and it’s worse than ever. My eyes - my eyes are black, and I’m - I’m so far beyond gone. And when I wake up, I can taste it, I…” He forces the bile down that’s trying to come up again. “I wake up with the taste of blood in my mouth and the thrill of killing my own brother.”

Cas nods sympathetically, but doesn’t say anything. 

He waits for Sam to find his voice again. 

“The others are just as bad. I’m Lucifer, and I burn Dean down to the bone. In another, he’s got the Mark of Cain. You didn’t come save me. So he kills me with the First Blade.” He pauses long enough to take a rattling, wet breath. “I need you, Cas. I need you back home, with us. Yeah, I’ve got Dean, and he has me. But we - I need  _ you _ , too. You’re my best friend, my family. I know it’s so hard for you to be there, after Jack. I can hardly look around without seeing him, either. But distancing yourself from us to grieve alone is just... ” 

Castiel lowers his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back there. I’m not welcome, not after what happened with Jack, and your mother. I’m afraid that I’d just be a horrific reminder of that.”

Sam recoils. “What? Of course you aren’t a reminder, Cas, you’re… wait, is this why you left? You thought you wouldn’t be welco --” 

“You’re misunderstanding,” The angel shakes his head, and sighs. “I didn’t just  _ leave _ , Sam. Dean…he wanted me to leave, he -- he can no longer stand my presence. He told me in so many words that he didn’t wish for me to remain there. He blames me for not just what happened with your mother, and with Jack, but also Rowena.”

“What?”

Sam goes silent, thunderstruck. And then it all falls into place: Dean’s attitude in the Crypt, the lack of regard for Cas and his well being when he sent Cas off to Hell with Belphegor; how easily he’d shrugged off Sam when he’d asked about the angel. How easily Dean could lie and make up an answer, how he could just say that Cas left because he “needed space to grieve away from them,” and not to worry about him. Castiel ignoring his messages.... 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The younger Winchester demands. It lacks any real anger or conviction. It sounds sad even to his own ears. “Dammit, Cas. I could’ve talked to him, I could’ve stopped him…” 

The angel grips his shoulder more firmly, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. “No, Sam. You were grieving for Rowena. I wasn’t going to disrupt that. Your brother told me that he thinks everything that goes wrong with your lives is because of me. And I felt that… that if I’m no longer present in your lives, then perhaps -”

“Oh, no, that’s bullshit,” Sam cuts him off, now heated. “Screw that. No. You’re one of the best things about our lives - about  _ my  _ life!”

“Sam -”

“I would’ve come after you,” Sam says, and he surprises himself when he realizes that he means it. If he’d known that Dean had kicked Cas out, Sam would’ve put a pin into grieving yet another close friend and gone after the angel, no matter how pissed Dean got. 

A slight smile curves on Cas’s lips; knowing, affectionate. “I know you would have. I know you would’ve pulled me back, and that’s why I didn’t respond to you. I wanted to keep you safe. Keep you alive, give you a chance at happiness.” 

There’s a long pause in which neither of them move, or say anything. Sam’s heart is pounding loud in his throat, and his eyes are muddled again with emotion. And Cas is looking at him with such soft intensity it’s as though he views Sam as the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

“You mean so very much to me, Sam,” Cas says. “I don’t think you understand how much. But I will not force you to choose between me and your brother. You’ve had so many choices thrust upon you, I will not add to it. You’ve suffered so much and I can’t watch you be hurt again.” 

Sam huffs, nodding bitterly. “Yeah, well. What if I’m not making a choice? I’m done doing that. I’m tired of it. I want to take what I want.”

He was tired of being Chuck’s puppet, a mindless marionette on a fucking string to use and break and throw away. He was tired of being told what he could and could not have, could not save, could not love. 

And right now, he wanted Cas back home with him.

He wants Cas, in whatever way that was. 

“Then you should,” The angel replies easily. He’s waiting, Sam realizes. They’ve reached a crossroad, and Cas is waiting either for Sam to turn and walk away, or to do something with that declaration. 

He fixates Cas with a stare, watching the angel’s expression for any sort of change, any sign that this isn’t what he wants. There’s an unspoken language occurring between them, and Cas’s eyes read that he’s very aware of what Sam’s telling him, and he’s not backing out.

Sam fights it until he can't anymore. 

He surges forward and presses his lips against Castiel’s, furiously, deeply. The angel rocks on the balls of his feet from the force of it, his hand still on Sam’s shoulder. But he isn’t pushing him away, and Sam thinks that’s a good sign. And then Cas’s other hand comes up to grip Sam’s hair tenderly, and suddenly, he’s responding back in equal fervor.

When Sam pulls away at last, he’s panting again, a little dizzy, but for an entirely different reason than trauma. “Wow,” He croaks, a little sheepish.

“For lack of a better word,” Castiel agrees, somewhat breathless himself. “How long have you thought about doing that?” 

“Pretty much since I met you,” Sam mumbles, ducking his head. “But especially lately, and after you left, I…” And then the moment passes and like always, the guilt settles in. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to just --”

“No. Don’t you do that,” Cas admonishes gently. “Don’t you apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Especially not that. Do you honestly think I’d have allowed that to happen if I didn’t want it to?”

Sam goes red, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t think you’d feel ---” 

And now Cas is the one leaning into him, running his lips along Sam’s jawline. “I do.”

Sam can’t quite believe what’s happening. He’s entertained the thought of this, more times than he cares to admit if he’s honest, but he never thought it could actually happen. He’s nose to nose with the angel, and probably looks like a blushy moron. But he finally feels contentment for the first time in days. Or at least, something resembling it. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I lied beside you,” Cas tells him, and now it’s his turn to look somewhat awkward. “Perhaps even longer. Much longer than I ever realized.” 

Sam laughs a little. “So… what now?” He asks, tentatively.

Cas hums, thoughtful. “So now...we find out what happened to Becky Rosen and her family,” He says. “And then we go home, back to the bunker, whether Dean likes it or not. And we find a way to defeat Chuck and what he’s trying to bring to pass.”

Sam nods, weakly, finally disentangling himself from Cas. It doesn’t feel so much like letting him go as it does a temporary pause.

“Yeah. All right. Sounds like a plan.” 


End file.
